The Whole World is Watching
by Everlasting Faerie Light
Summary: Amelia F. Jones, United States of America, now finds herself facing the post-war world of a socially divided Europe. With the looming threat of the USSR, Arthur Kirkland realizes that it is time to look to a new leader. -A short one-shot describing a moment between England and nyo!America following Churchill's Iron Curtain speech. Hints of UKxfem!US.


March 5th, 1946

It was cold. At least it was to Amelia F. Jones, personification of the United States of America.

But then again, ever since the end of the war, and ever since Ivan and his Soviet cronies had decided to rear their ugly heads in a rather dark direction, Amelia couldn't shake the chilling sensation that lingered within the very air that she breathed, and every step that she took.

She knew that there was no going back. She couldn't poke her head into Europe's affairs and then pretend that she had absolutely nothing to do with it like she did after the first war. An isolationist policy would no longer be accepted by the other nations, and no matter how reluctant Amelia was, she knew that she had dug herself an inescapable deep hole.

She knew that all eyes were on her now. She had grown strong over the years, stronger than anyone had expected. Many years ago, on the day that Amelia had cut her hair and gained her independence, she promised herself that she would be unforgettable… that the whole world would one day be watching her. She sought isolation from the Europeans; they were her enemies for many years. She wanted absolutely nothing to do with them.

And when the fighting started, she tried to remain uninvolved. She wanted nothing to do with any of it… but she was eventually pulled in. She couldn't just stay back and pretend that nothing significant was happening to her fellow nations. But once she had cracked and exposed her nations' heavy industrialization, and bailed her allies out of deeper destruction against the Germans, she withdrew once again.

Amelia had definitely made her mark, however. And she didn't have much time to cope with the global economic collapse before Germany rose from the ashes once again with a fury, dragging Italy and Japan with him. It was brutal, and she couldn't just lie back as Ludwig and his unhinged leader attempted to invade every damned country in existence. Not only that, but with Kiku's devastating stunt on Pearl Harbor, Amelia's devastation and anger forced her to take action. Out of pure spite and a thirst for vengeance, she plunged herself into the warzone by focusing on the Pacific, both with air raids on civilian targets, and of course…dropping the atomic bomb on Hiroshima.

That was something she knew would come back to haunt her later, but it was still far too early for remorse.

The young blonde woman's eyes were fixed on nothing in particular as she breathed in and out, hoping that the icy air would relieve some of the relentless tension. Her once sparkling blue eyes were now sharp and cold. Her young face was flat and expressionless. Though she took on the appearance of a beautiful nineteen year old girl, one would be able to see her war-bound wariness upon closer examination.

The campus of Westminster College really was quite lovely. She faced the columns, attempting to drink in their majesty, but failing to do so. It was quiet here, but not too quiet. Amelia was thankful for that; total silence meant that her head was filled with the sounds of explosions and artillery and screaming and constant arguing. It also meant that she had to think about the new problem.

This Eastern issue. The Russians.

Ivan and his Soviets had always given Amelia a bad taste in her mouth, even when she had no choice but to side with him in the past.

And now, according to Winston Churchill, the United States would have to face this problem head on. No more hiding, no more leaving all the dirty work for those older European powers.

She scowled; she was never planning to abandon Europe during a time like this in the first place. She wasn't stupid. There was no going back at this point, so why did Churchill have to even mention it? Yes, she understood that his intentions were fair. He recognized the fact that she had saved the western powers during both wars… that without her contribution, everything would have gone to hell. And of course, she did agree with him. The Soviet Union deserved criticism for being extremely secretive and untrustworthy. Something about Ivan did not sit right with Amelia, and it wasn't just communism. The USSR was gargantuan, frightening, and most definitely chalk full of sinister intentions-

"Amelia."

The all-too-familiar voice made her look up. It filled her both with a sense of nostalgia and dread.

Arthur Kirkland stood in front of her, his coat buttoned up to his neck. His green eyes looked rather blood-shot from lack of sleep, and though his face was young, Amelia could see the years of hardship and war coated on his skin. She couldn't help but marvel at the man… how could a person go through so many years of bloodshed, triumph, and disappointment without breaking in half?

"Arthur." Her voice was clipped.

Ever since she kicked him out of her country back in the 1700s, and declared herself independent, their once loving relationship had been decimated. However, the passing of almost two centuries had transformed their hatred into strained formality.

But her heart still ached from time to time.

Arthur took a seat next to her, a good six inches of space between them. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, not saying a word.

After another moment of silence, he spoke, his eyes wandering to the sky. "Lovely day, don't you think?"

"Gorgeous," she responded flatly.

Arthur grunted lamely in response, staring at his feet, unsure of what to say, but knowing that he wanted to say something. Thank you? Were those the right words? He knew that Amelia would just dismiss them. They sounded hollow in comparison to the swirling thoughts in his head.

And to be honest, he was a bit intimidated by her. Yes, he had always tagged her as that foolish, impulsive girl who had absolutely no clue on what she was doing. Yes, he refused to take her seriously for years, despite the fact that she had proven her power. But again, Arthur had underestimated Amelia F. Jones, United States of America.

He needed to be close to her for the sake of his nation. For the sake of Europe.

"…How are you?" he tried again, his voice almost catching in his throat. He never thought that he would find himself dry-mouthed and nervous in the presence of a former colony.

Amelia sighed deeply, running a hand over her face. "I'm… tired."

"We all are," he finished, looking off to the distance. He was tired. He was so tired. But he knew that he couldn't afford to be. There was work to be done.

After another bout of silence, he turned his head to look at the girl again, studying her features. She was undoubtedly beautiful. She still looked like the girl he found and raised all those years ago. She was still the light-haired beauty that took his breath away. But there was something different about her now. It wasn't just age, but experience. It changed her posture and her demeanor. It made her older. It shaped her into a woman. She had massive amounts of blood on her hands just like the rest of them.

"Amelia, listen to me. You probably know this already, but the prime minister is right-"

"I understand," Amelia cut him off. "Ivan is poking his ugly head around Europe, and everyone is frightened. I know."

Arthur sighed, a hint of frustration in his voice. No matter how many years passed, he knew that it would always be difficult to have a seriously civil conversation with America. "Everybody knows that, America. But I'm talking about taking action. You and I need to stay close for a while. In fact, it would be beneficial for you to stay close to everybody. It's absolutely essential…"

"_I know!" _Amelia growled. And she did. She knew that she had to be a part of this. She knew that she was the sole target. She knew that she couldn't become an isolationist again. Truman had said it. Churchill had said it. And she had even said it to herself.

"I know you know, Amelia."

Arthur's whole body was facing her now. His voice was stern, steady, and ruthless. He had no intention of attacking the girl. He just needed her to know how much she meant to him and all of Europe. How much they needed her. It was almost an expression of gratitude.

"You are an intelligent woman. You are strong and independent. Without you, we would have lost. We all know that, and none of us deny it. You… you have exceeded all of my expectations."

Amelia turned her head to stare at Arthur, who was looking at her with unblinking determination.

"To be honest, I have been selfish. Ever since you gained independence, I hoped that you would fail. I hoped that you would need me, that you wouldn't be able to cope without me. But deep down, I knew that you wouldn't. You never needed me. And now look at you."

He gave a slightly bitter laugh. The American girl kept staring at him in wonder. It was rare for him to bring up their old dispute that had caused so much bitterness between them.

"You are powerful. I knew you always were. You've always been fairly self-sufficient, and now you have the world groveling at your feet." His voice was unbearable certain. It made the American squirm.

"Arthur…I… no one is groveling!" Amelia spluttered, at a loss for words to say. She could feel the light blush coat her cheeks. She knew that Arthur wasn't trying to charm or flatter her. She understood that he was being one hundred percent genuine, and that's what made her throat close up.

He gave a bitter smile before continuing. "My glory days are over. You've finally outdone me, America. And now, it's your turn to take the reigns."

There was a moment of silence as his words floated between the two. The American's eyes narrowed dangerously, her fists clenching. She couldn't just sit here and listen to him... talk like this. Talk as if-

"England, you bastard! Don't say that stuff to me," Amelia fired up, surprised by how strong her voice sounded. Her heart pounded against her chest as she stood up swiftly, glaring daggers at the man. "Don't you dare spew that nonsense. You're making it sound as if you're on your deathbed. You still have plenty of influence, and I need your help. I need everyone's help. Do NOT place this burden all on me."

Arthur stood up as well, though he did not fire up as Amelia had. Instead, he just stared at her with that same determined expression.

"I'm not placing the burden on you, Amelia. We're all going to share it. I am just stating the fact that Ivan has his eye on you. You're not a child anymore. You have proven yourself to be one of the most dangerous threats to the USSR. You're more dangerous than me, Francis, Ludwig, Feliciano… everyone. I know that you don't want it to be this way, but there's no denying the fact that YOU are responsible for putting your foot down this time. The whole world is watching YOU."

At the last you, he jabbed a finger onto Amelia's collarbone. She remained firm, glaring at Arthur with cold, unyielding adamancy. The sun reflected off of his golden hair, and his eyes were filled with a fire that she hadn't seen in a long time. It made her heart hammer against her ribcage.

She knew that he was right. She knew all along. She had even accepted it. But to have it spoken to her by someone other than the voices in her head was almost more than she could handle. It made her mind travel to the edges of the world, to the large land-mass of Russia and his allies. She could feel their eyes on her, glaring at her, plotting against her. It made her think of the possible bloodshed to come, of the screams and the fighting and the death and destruction.

Things would never be the same.

Amelia took a deep breath, her face expression softening as she placed her now-calloused hand over Arthur's, which was still against her collarbone. He loosened up at her touch.

She closed her eyes for a moment, taking another breath before opening them once again. The cold wariness was gone, now replaced with that characteristic American spark… childlike, yet strong and fierce. The flames of a warrior.

"If the whole world is watching me, Kirkland, then they'll have to cope with watching you too."

He smiled. The smile held a mixture of bitterness and tenderness. He removed his hand from Amelia's light grasp and used it to gently tuck a stray blonde curl behind her ear.

"Love, I'm used to it."


End file.
